This is one of those stories that is seared into my DNA. It was published, IIRC, in 1984, and I read it first in Blue Champagne, which I consider a must-read science fiction collection. Varley doesn't write much, but he sure as hell writes good.
And if you think it isn't relevant today, you're not extending the metaphor, as they say.
This is the only true after-the-bomb story you will ever read.
(This is why, sometimes, breaking every rule there is to break will win you awards. But first, you must know what you are doing. And every time I start thinking I know what I'm doing, I read a little Varley, and it passes.)